Bloodletting
by a nyr byrjun
Summary: She was a fallen angel, and he was the devil coming to stake his claim. Two-Shot Warning: This story does include very explicit and graphic scenes that are not meant for those who are underage. If you are uncomfortable with that, I suggest you do not read.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: I was just bouncing ideas off of one another about what I wanted to write about one night. I wrote the first couple of paragraphs and they mapped out everything else. This is what I came up with. I hope you appreciate my efforts._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight._

* * *

_"A mental stain can neither be blotted out by the passage of time nor washed away by any waters." - Cicero_

* * *

She shouldn't be feeling this way. It was forbidden, if anything dangerous. Not only was she risking her self being but those around her. She didn't want to care, but she did. That would be her weakness in the end.

She was living in a body she couldn't control. It had a mind of it's own and mocked it her in her triumph. Why did the only guy she was ever so desperately attracted to had to be someone she was supposed to hate? Someone she couldn't hate? Even as much as she tried. After all he had almost killed her.

He watched her, his eyes dancing in their sockets. He knew. He could see it in her eyes. The thing that made it worse was that he felt the same, and was out to destroy the both of them. He would be putting their lives on the line, but he wanted this, needed this. And he would have it.

There was no stopping him, only her half-hearted threats. She didn't mean them but knew she should have. This was wrong, inexcusable. A cat playing with a mouse. Only he wanted more than just the kill.

"Jasper," Alice had called, he turned reluctantly. Bella relaxed into Edwards shoulder, and looked up to see that he had been oblivious to everything that had just happened. The way he looked at her, his posture almost savage. She sighed, troubled. She hated feeling this way, lost. She couldn't tell anyone, even if she wanted to.

Ever since her birthday party, when her finger had slipped on the wrapping paper, and oozed blood, things hadn't been the same. When he leaped at her, she almost wanted him to land on her. Sink his teeth into her bowed neck, and feel the thrill knowing no one could do anything about it. Not even Edward, as he would watch, frozen in time.

To feel her life slip away as he drank, the thoughts were infectious. They kept eating at her, she shouldn't want them to happen. Shouldn't let herself even imagine them happening. But she couldn't stop herself, her fantasies dark.

She nuzzled her face into Edwards neck and he reached down to stroke her hair softly. "What are you thinking?" His voice made her feel as if she was falling. Her stomach turned, she was guilty. Why couldn't she just tell him? Why did she even have the nerve to let herself in his arms? She didn't deserve him, didn't deserve to know he would do anything for her. That she was his star in the sky, to know that he loved her.

"I want to go home," she admitted, her eyes wet against his marble skin. He was alarmed as he felt the change of her emotions, her hands tightening around his neck. "I don't feel very well," she didn't mean to lie, even if it didn't seem like much of a lie to her. She didn't feel well, her mind feeling as if it had taken a bruising just by stepping into the Cullen household.

But she felt as if she had hurt him when she had said this, for when she looked up he looked like he was in physical pain. His cool hand went to her forehead, and his other held her warm cheek in his hand. "Oh, Bella. Why didn't you tell me sooner? I would have taken you home" His eyes were liquid butterscotch, melting as if he had tears in his eyes. Though, she would never know, he couldn't cry. But she could imagine what he was feeling. Only she felt worse.

He listened as Edward gathered her up his arms, too tired to argue Bella allowed him to get away with it, as he continued to scold her. "Isabella Marie Swan, when you get home you're going straight to bed. I don't want to hear it," he told her sternly, still sounding as concerned as he did when she first admitted how she felt.

"Edward, it's not like the-," she sighed, all of sudden feeling sleepy. He opened the door to his Volvo, and gently placed her in the front seat. He made sure that her seat belt was secure, and watched as her eyes started to droop. She was adorable, a small pout on her lips. He kissed her forehead, his lips lingering, unaware to the eyes watching him from above. He was too absorbed in his angel.

Jasper made sure not to think of anything remotely detectable, simply thinking of war, it was all Edward had heard before any of this started. Nothing went bump in the night in his mind. He was wrapped up in the beauty of the one he loved, nothing and no one mattered more than her_. Only if he knew I felt the same._

* * *

His thoughts revolved around her. Her presence, her scent, her warmth. It made his mouth water just to think of her, imagine her soft skin that would tear..oh so easily. The night of her birthday had changed everything, changed the way he thought and even the man he was. He hadn't felt this way before the incident but it was all clear now. His eyes had been opened, revealed to the possibilities, a whole new life.

Being a vampire wasn't all it was cracked up to be, you lived to be forever, but what happens when forever starts to become painful? Intolerable, simply unbearable? I guess you can see why all are portrayed as brooding but, humans couldn't even handle there simple reality. Try to imagine never being able to die. What happens when life leaves you lifeless? When even the same routine almost kills?

He couldn't even face Alice anymore, always feeling hollow inside. Even if he could feel the emotions around him, he himself didn't feel any. To know everyone else did feel, and could feel, even in this life, made him feel like something was wrong with him. Like he didn't belong. In fact, being he didn't.

He still thirsted for human blood as much as he did years and years ago, but he could still control himself. Or he did up until the thirteenth of September. He had thought he could prove it them, to himself but he didn't. He almost relapsed. Almost broke everything he had worked so hard for, but he couldn't find himself to give a care in the world. All he cared about what that Bella made him feel alive.

But he couldn't have her, claim her, call her his. She wasn't. She was Edwards. They were mates, as he and Alice were, but he could tell she was curious. He had felt her emotions when they had all been sitting, the day after, in the living room. Carlisle wanted a family meeting, and Edward was restrained by Emmett for the most of it. He could hear Jasper's untamed thoughts, but Jasper didn't care enough to conceal them, much less control them.

He couldn't, it was all he could think about. He had sat there, his body nearly halfway of the sofa cushion, his eyes glazed over as he stared at her. She had squirmed in her seat, her hand tightly laced, as Edward held it in his lap. His marble fingers were cold stone, numbing the tension in her arm. She tried to look forward and focus on what Carlisle was saying but she could see him out the corner of her eye. Watching.

"Edward, it wasn't anyone fault that it happened. Jasper lost his control but do you see him attacking her at this moment?" She had never seen Edward look as murderous as he did, glaring at his father. He didn't argue, instead stayed deathly silent. He was listening. He saw blood, and more blood. The carpet soaked, a trail dripping down porcelain...crimson on teeth.

He had stood so fast, Bella almost didn't notice her arm was back at her side. His eyes were a piercing black and in this moment he looked like a real predator, the hunter. "Stop! I can't take it anymore," he yelled in agony, as he dropped to his knees in front of her. He buried his face in her lap, his hand holding the sides of her thighs. He dry sobbed and Bella couldn't believe what she was seeing.

Never had he been in this much pain, never as much let her know he was capable of feeling this hurt. And it was all for her. He would die a thousand deaths before he would ever wish for anything that he had just witnessed happen to her. It broke her heart in two and she found herself pulling him up only to cradle his face on her chest. She looked to Jasper and found him grinning.

His expression was torture. Even in beauty, he face had never looked so evil. His lips, soft pink, were stretched out over his incisors of teeth that could kill. His cheeks, translucent; almost see through, were lifted with his grin. His eyes were a pool of darkness, hypnotising her to look no where else. She could only look at him, only see him.

"Jasper, stop it. Don't do this," they both heard Alice distantly plead. She sounded as if she was choking on her own words, they wouldn't come out of her mouth. He didn't listen, only stuck out his tongue and licked his lips as if he could taste her blood. The blood that coursed through her veins in this very moment, the blood he could see pulse against her skin, the metallic fire he wanted a taste of.

_One bite couldn't hurt._

* * *

He watched as the silver car drove out of sight, the rain just starting to pour. Small droplets ran down the glass window, some slow some fast, his eyes never leaving them. Ever so focused, he almost didn't notice another presence in the room. But he did. He looked down, acting as if he was skimming one of his books, slowly with two fingers in interest.

He knew this wouldn't entirely work but it was better than looking even more suspicious. Alice was tentative about coming inside the room, even though it wasn't as she couldn't. It was his study, yes, but she was his mate. Or so she had felt right about calling herself that before that night. Nothing felt the same. He didn't feel the same. It had hurt her more than words could describe.

Even if he hadn't come out right and told her, she could sense it. She could see their pitiful future, filled with nothing but holes of what they once were. Their future was broken, missing fragments. Pieces of the puzzle lost, once a picture now a flammable mess. She didn't know who he was anymore. She had seen him in the hungriest of days, saw in her mind what he capable of doing, but never had she thought he would hurt them this way.

He wanted to kill her. Tear her apart with his bare hands, bury his face in her flesh like a lion. A merciless lion eating the defenseless lamb. But that wasn't all of what he wanted. It wasn't just the thirst, it was lust.

He wanted to claim in the most obscene ways, his sick demented mind was just dreaming of it. The way he would possess her, mark her in the way one should. She would scream as he bruised her body, break into her opening. He wouldn't stop, not even at how loud she screamed. He would keep going, in and out, losing himself in the sin of the act. Nothing would stop him.

* * *

Bella had fallen asleep in the car on the way home, Edward took it upon himself to call Charlie. He didn't do it to look good or to even impress, he wanted to be the only one who carried her in his arms, and tuck her safely in bed.

As he drove on, he listened to her soft breathing, and her heart thump against her chest. The sound of it calming him, distracting him from his troublesome thoughts. She was in danger, they all were. It wasn't because he was a mind reader that he knew this, he knew Jasper. He knew what he could do, what he was willing to and what he wanted to do. Bella, his angel, was now only safe with him.

She wouldn't be out of his sight until he was sure the dark period was over. She was the only thing that mattered to him and nothing would harm her if he had a say in it. She was his, only his for the taking. He wasn't himself when she wasn't around. Half of him was empty and missing. The rest of him would be with her. He always left his heart with her, she had the power to do anything.

He reached for her small hand, holding it in his own. It small, fragile, as it lay. The warmth burned his palm in a way that made his stomach feel dizzy. They're hands fit perfectly together, his bigger than hers, and he smiled at the small observation. He played with her hand quietly, watching the road with only one eye. Not that he even needed that to knew where he was going. The directions to her house where implanted into his brain, he didn't have to think.

It wasn't long before he drove up her street, only to see the lights in the front on. He could see Charlie, even from where he was, peeking through the curtain. It was quite comical as he swung back as if he was afraid to be caught. Edward chuckled, and couldn't help but to thank the awkward man. Without him, Bella wouldn't exist. He parked, the hum of the Volvo, calming.

He could hear Charlie, pace back and forth, in the front hallway. He was waiting to open the door for them, thinking to himself. His thoughts, unlike anyone else's he had heard, were mainly revolved around the same things. But when there was a change in his mind, something out of routine, he was very anxious.

Edward stepped around the front of the Volvo, opening the door, and stroked her face before unbuckling her out. He reached for her, putting an arm under her knees and the other behind her back. Bella started to murmur incoherent things, she was somewhat awake from what he could. And she knew she was moving, for her arms reached up and hooked around his neck.

Her face brushed against his neck, and he didn't even care that he kicked the car door shut. Rosalie would have a field day. He didn't rush the walk to the porch steps, instead took his time with handling her just right. Only she wasn't letting him. She was distracting him, without even knowing it.

"Edward," she breathed, her fingers wove through the nape of his hair. He carried her effortlessly, but stumbled at the entry way as he felt her heart beat against his chest. The life of her coursed through the both of them, only she could make him feel this way. He was sure even if he did need to breath, he wouldn't have. If he could sweat, beads would have rolled down his face.

Her fire was melting him. He was ice, thawing helplessly in love. "We're almost inside, love." The top of her head touched the edge of his jaw, her silky hair tickling his chin.

Without knocking on the door, Charlie poked his head through before opening it fully. Bella could sense she was moving, and that someone was carrying her. She could hear hush voices and feel her body move with each stair. Edward held her and whispered for her to sleep as he carried her to her small bedroom.

She pressed a hand to her forehead, groaning at the pain in her head, she didn't want to open her eyes. She hadn't been getting much of any sleep, and she had no one to blame but the em-path that had almost taken her life.

It seemed he was everywhere she turned. In her dreams, her sleep. She saw him every time she closed her eyes. Edward couldn't even lull the disturbance away at night, all she did was toss and turn. His arms couldn't still her, his kisses didn't silence her cries. His words she couldn't hear, for the sound of broken glass echoed in her ears. There was nothing that could be done.

* * *

She still stood at the doorway, not knowing what to do with herself. She stared at the back of his head, simply watching it move slightly as he read each line of text. Alice was in a a state of denial. There had to be something she could do. Before it was too late. But she knew it would probably be the hardest thing she'd ever do. Going against him would only drive him further. She knew this but couldn't seem to keep her mouth shut.

"Jasper," she started out slowly, her voice thick from sobbing. All he gave her was a sound of acknowledgement, although she knew he was listening more than he gave out. "I just had a vision." All he saw was red, the most delectable wine, a banquet for the sinners. He was one of them, he wouldn't resist. The temptation was far too much for persuasion. He didn't need to ask. He knew exactly what she had seen, now she was the only one stopping him from what he wanted.

He acted like what she had said didn't affect him, it was quite the contrary. His hands had clutched at the dusty book, his eyes changing from a dulling topaz to black. No one was going to stand in his way. Surely not her. She didn't have to heart to hurt him, nonetheless confront him. But here she was making things more difficult than they had to be. Who ever said life was easy?

"Oh, and what was it of?" he asked, his voice struggling to keep calm. She was testing his patience. If she was going to tell him she knew of his plans, why did she have to beat around the bush? It was all going to end the same either way. But she had hope, her mistake. It would do no good, he was far gone.

Before she could get a word out, he was across the room, his hand at her throat. He lifted her up off the ground, the grip on her throat never loosening. She was in shock, her body quivering against the wall. If he pushed her any harder, the plaster would break and collapse. Her hands clawed at his wrist, but it was no use. He wouldn't stop now.

She didn't need to breathe, and that was the only thing keeping her alive at this moment. Not that he planned for her to still live after this. "You can't stop me, Alice. You were nothing," his voice was a rough whisper. "You never meant anything to me, you only held me back. Well now it's my turn to decide what's right and what's wrong." Her eyes were brimmed with venom, if she could cry, she would have.

She could feel it, death crawling up on her, the realization she never thought would exist. Never would she have thought she would die, never at the hands of the only man she had thought she loved. But even now, she loved him. It didn't matter if this was how she went, as long as it was him that would be the one to end it all.

His narrow nose skimmed along her jaw, before moving down to her small neck. He could feel her voice struggle against his steadied palm. "I love y-," he bit through her larynx, silencing her. He let go of her, dropping her to her knees. He quickly placed his hands around the top part of her head and twisted. Her head fell to floor, only to be kicked to the corner.

His eyes were stones; hard and cold.

* * *

Edward slowly took off her coat and shoes, glancing up to see if her eyes were open. They were barely, but enough to let him know she was in between consciousness and sleep. She was being stubborn, pushing her palms against her soft bed, she tried to sit up. The lights were off and see could only see an outline of his face, as he looked to the door.

Charlie wasn't coming up, not yet, and Edward took his chance to crawl up from the end of the bed, only to gently push her down. Her back touched the blanket and she started to blink. "Bella, sweetheart. You need to sleep, look at your eyes. They're bloodshot." Her eyes were stinging, in fact, tearing up just by keeping them open. She shook her head.

"I can see them," he whispered, his sweet breath fanning her face. She started to feel dizzy and hot. The heat made her tug at her light cardigan, but her arms felt like jelly. They wouldn't move without making her more tired. He reached down and pulled the piece of clothing over her head, leaving her in only a small spaghetti strap. He wished to look away but her hands slowly reached up and held his face.

He closed his eyes and sighed. She reached up for a kiss, but because she couldn't see, she mistakenly started to kiss his jaw. He hovered over her, trying to make as little noise as possible, but couldn't contain himself. He titled her head, reaching her for the arch of her neck, and placed soft butterfly kisses there. He pulled away, only enough so that his breath tickled her skin as he spoke. "Is this the only way I can get you to sleep?"

She nodded, her eyelids losing the battle, and reached for the pillow. He chuckled, the sound vibrating in his chest. She sighed as her head hit the pillow, and she felt the bed rise as he rose. Before turning to the door, he lifted her legs and placed them under the covers. He then leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Bella?"

"Mmm," she hummed, letting herself fall into a comforting cloud of black. "I'm going to hunt, I'll be back tonight." He closed the door softly, making as little noise, although it didn't matter. She was already asleep, it would take more than a feeble squeak to wake her.

* * *

He chucked her headless body over his shoulder and headed downstairs. No one was home, they were out hunting and Jasper smiled at how convenient everything had turned out to be. His right hand held her head up by the roots of her hair, even in death the expression on her face was distressed. He didn't feel guilty, far from it, as he casually looked for gasoline. He needed to burn her before her body found a way to reattach itself.

She was still for the moment and he knew he would need to hurry. Edward was going out with the hunting party, by the mountains so it was safe for him to burn Alice, before heading over to Bella's house. It was nearing seven o'clock and the sun was now just starting to set, the dark seemed to make every movement he made the more eerie.

He threw her body a few feet away into the forest that surrounded the house. He poured the gasoline generously over her and didn't hesitate as he tossed the lighter over his shoulder. He glanced behind him, once, and watched his dirty work burn. The angry flames reflected in his eyes, and he felt a surge of adrenaline. The opportunity was finally here. He wouldn't have to wait any longer. It was time.

He ran, faster than he ever had, the wind violently hitting his ear drums. He couldn't find himself feeling bothered by it, for all it did was make him feel the more anxious. He knew the trail to her house well, he could smell her scent. It was that potent and apparent. The thought alone of feeling it on his tongue made his throat burn, he had to swallow back the venom that had pooled in his mouth.

His teeth ached to bite something, tear something. He needed blood, he needed her now. He wondered what the feel of her of her in his restraining arms, how she would respond to his demanding kisses. How he would feel stealth inside of her. He would take something she could only give once, possess her in ways only one should. She would be his, forever.

* * *

_A/N: Might be a two-shot, I don't know. I'm going to leave the rest to your imagination. Please leave a review._


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: I was delighted at the feedback, all the favorites, alerts and reviews. Thanks to everyone who has read this story. I decided to continue it, but am not sure if I will leave it as this. Might remain a two-shot or three-shot. I'm not sure, but anyways I hope you appreciate my efforts. Warning: this contains graphic imagery and violent situations. If you do not like, do not read._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight._

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_"When the gods wish to punish us they answer our prayers." - Oscar Wilde_

* * *

She stirred, the pain in her head not really gone. Just as fast she had fallen asleep, she had woken up. She didn't understand it, she was so tired that she was sure she would have knocked out for the night. But this tired was the kind of tired that made it that she couldn't sleep, even as much as she wanted to. All she could do was try, she had nothing else.

She held a hand to her face, and cried out weakly. The tension in her skull wouldn't subside, she could feel the blood pounding in her head. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping it would go away, but it never did. It stayed, ramming her head like a wrecking ball. She wished Edward was there, even though he wouldn't have been able to make it go away. But he could hold her, that was all she wanted.

But even the thought of him didn't make her feel any better. It only made her feel all the more worse because she hadn't thought to think of him. The first face she had seen behind her eyelids were his. His hypnotic eyes, the darkness that drew her in, the pool of his soul. She saw everything when she saw him, he wouldn't go away. She tortured herself thinking of him, but she couldn't stop.

She could only wonder if there was something wrong with her, the masochism she had bestowed upon herself was unthinkable. It seemed she had lost herself to the devil, only she hadn't agreed to sell her soul. She tried to bare the amount of pain she was in, but it was the only thing distracting that kept her from closing her eyes. She didn't want to fall back asleep. She wasn't sure if she could take it.

It seemed not only when she was awake that she was haunted by his penetrating gaze, but even while she was unconscious. Her mind was consumed by the images of him, she couldn't escape. She didn't know what was worse, that she couldn't stop thinking about him, or that she wasn't sure that she could. The mere image of him was burned into her brain, she had never been so afraid for her life.

Bella couldn't believe she had made it out of the Cullen's front door still breathing. It seemed like a dream, tightly holding Edwards hand, as they walked speechless to the Volvo. They didn't say a word to each other, not even cast a glance at one another. Her heart beat was still thumping rapidly in her chest from such adrenaline, and she couldn't contain herself. She stared ahead, not really seeing anything at all, her eyes glazed over.

In that moment, she had just realized she had escaped death by the skin of her teeth. She couldn't believe it, none of it really sinking in. Nothing that had just happened seemed real, it couldn't be. She had never imagined something of this nature would happen, nonetheless to her. She had never really felt in danger in the presence of anyone until now. Her defense mechanism had finally kicked in.

But she knew she couldn't really harm or do any damage to a vampire. It was unthinkable, her being a fragile human. Just like a piece of glass, she could break in an instant, and shatter into pieces. A bubble that could be popped with a measly poke, she simply wasn't made for anything that required force. She was the one that needed saving. But it seemed to her she would never be.

* * *

They stayed both in silence, the only sound heard being made from the soft hum of the car. The tires didn't squeak with such speed, instead faded into the background of the road. Outside the windows, the images of where they were passing, blurred. The picture of quiet trees a green mess, although it was so dark at this time at night, she couldn't see anything.

Edward was at a loss of words as his ghostly hands gripped the steering wheel with such uncontrolled strength, he had to restrain himself from snapping it into pieces. His jaw was rigid, and tense. His teeth were clenched, the lining of his neck struggling not to bob. He held himself, fearing that the rage coursing through his veins would frighten her. It was the last thing she needed, and he knew things would never be the same again.

He wasn't sure if he could keep from snapping in the confided space of the car, but he knew he had to control himself, Bella was in the car. He couldn't scare her, she had been through enough in a night, even for a lifetime. He felt the ever more worse because it had been him, himself, that had put her in the danger of exposure. It was his fault that anything had happened, he was risking her life every time he had let her near anyone else who couldn't be trusted.

He should have known Jasper wouldn't have been able to handle any encounter having to do with Bella, the arch of her neck, the warm pulsation of her blood. Edward even at times couldn't bare to keep himself away when it seemed like she was teasing him, but he had to. She was his life, and all that he lived for. He wouldn't lose her, much less allow himself to take away the thing he held most dear in the world.

But he was far too gone to suppress what he had seen on this night.

His hands shook on the steering wheel, he didn't see anything through the front lining of glass. The scene kept replaying in his head.

* * *

The crimson they oozed from the slice on her finger, way she had fallen when his arms reached out to push her. He could hear the animistic thoughts coming from Jasper, his teeth already barred. He struggled in Emmett and Rosalie's hold. His head thrashed violently from side to side.

His eyes were the worst of all to see. The darkest of black, he felt the most undying hunger for the innocent human. She crashed into the table full of glass plates, the shards slicing her right arm. Jagged lines of blood trickled down the skin of her arm to her wrist. She whimpered in pain, the piercing broken skin burning. She looked up from seeing the blood, feeling nausea crept in the pit of her stomach, with tears in her eyes.

She was starting to feel dizzy, the walls of her vision were clouded, the last thing she saw before blacking out were the eyes of the predator. She felt her arms give out and completely fell limp to the ground, the blood still gushing from her body. It formed a pool around her, and Edward rushed to tend to her wounds. He wasn't breathing, but he could feel the venom rush into his mouth.

His eyes weren't butterscotch anymore, the atmosphere completely changing the thirst in his throat. He had too, longed to have a taste, but he wouldn't. He couldn't be the monster he had once was, drinking blood from humans, he was a changed man. He wasn't about to ruin it, or even dare to drink from the wine that gave her life, but he was tempted. He was already overwhelmed with not only his thoughts, but with the ones of Jasper.

He wanted to call him a vile creature for even imagining his lips upon her skin, but he was too, imagining the same. He hated himself for it, as he looked down at her bloody form, even the image ever lasting in his mind even when he was pulled away. He wouldn't budge when he felt a hand on his shoulder, that is, not until he heard the thoughts of those surrounding him. He could see himself in there minds, on the brink of relapse. He was shaken out of his daze, horrified at what he must of looked like.

Uncontrollable, rigid, and with the strongest of all hungers. His teeth ached against his gums, they were burning to feel the warmth of the crimson liquid, the ends of his incisors were blazing. He couldn't help but to trace his sore mouth with his tongue, but even the pressure didn't do anything to lessen his pain. He was ashamed that the body he had been sacrificed into was betraying him, this wasn't what he wanted, but he needed it.

Oh what a monster, in the worst of anguish and torture, he had thought. Even a room away he could smell it, smell her blood, but he could hear it too. How her heart beat and pumped the thick elixir, sweet and innocent in her veins. He could her hear her soft voice, quiet, as she talked with his father. She wasn't upset about her injury or even that she had almost been attacked, she was upset about him.

She didn't want to cause him any pain, hadn't meant anything of it, but he knew that it was his fault. He could only blame himself for being as selfish as risking her life by bringing her around those that could only bring her harm. But he hated himself the more because he had caused her to feel like she had something to do with their uncontrollable ways. He wanted nothing more but to go in the other room and pick her up in his arms, and shake her until she had come to her senses.

Why couldn't she realize that if they weren't immortal she could live a normal life? Have a stable relationship? Be able to kiss the one she loved properly? He hated himself, he had taken everything from her, and he couldn't give her anything. He couldn't even understand how she could think he was enough, she deserved better, she could have anyone she wanted. She really didn't see herself clearly, he was the lucky one, she was just stuck with him.

But he didn't want her to realize this, he wanted her all for himself, he wouldn't be able to go one and live without her. He knew he was a self being but all these years without her, and to now finally be with her, and have her taken away would be just like death. Only worse, he would have to keep living, with his memories that could only torture. But it was more than a gift to even remember, his memory would live on, and so would his heart, but he would be dead. He wouldn't have nothing to live for except to wait for her in the wings, if she came back, he wouldn't even care if she had left.

As long as he had her.

The thing that bothered him further was that she wanted to be just like him, he could hear her talking to Carlisle, reasoning that he in fact had a soul no matter what he thought. But he didn't believe he did, and he wouldn't dare threaten to risk losing hers. He wouldn't know what to do if that ended up being the outcome, he was afraid that if he even as much as let his venom in her system, she would entirely change into something he feared.

She would be nothing like the girl he had fallen in love with. Fragile, soft..warm. She would be indestructible, hard and cold. He wouldn't change her, no matter how much she begged, pleaded..or even cried. She wouldn't destroy the person he had fallen in love with, wouldn't take away the thing that made her who she was, he wouldn't be able to survive without her mortality. It was the only thing keeping him sane at this point.

But it was also the thing that was driving him to the point of insanity. It couldn't work both ways, but he decided, he decided for the both of them she wouldn't be changed. It wasn't going to hang on her if something went wrong, if he took to much blood while trying to exchange his venom, if he accidentally killed her. He didn't know the fine line of his strength, but he was sure he wasn't strong enough to not want to take her blood.

He was too absorbed in his own mind to even notice her leaning against the doorway, her hand holding her bandaged arm to her chest, but he could sense someone was watching him. And he, could too, smell the tiny pigments of he could on dream of tasting on his tongue. He looked up from his head in his hands, and watched as she smiled sadly to him, before going and bravely putting her arms around him.

He instantly stiffened as he could smell the aroma of her softness, of her skin, of her flesh. She was calling to him and she didn't even know what she was asking for.

* * *

When they arrived at her home, Edward didn't have to sneak into the Swan residence, Charlie was already sound asleep on the couch oblivious to any of the regretful thoughts. He was regretting letting her anywhere near him. He was regretting letting her anywhere near someone so powerful. He regretted not being able to protect her. But the thing he regretted the most was that, he regretted not being able to change the thing that entirely consumed his being. Immortality.

He wasn't anything to be considered normal, he wasn't anything that deserved to feel humanity, he wasn't anything that should have been kept to live. He was an obscurity, an abomination, he was just like him.

* * *

The darkness of twilight, the dusk of gray was now surrounding, the clouds almost deadly in size. The rain had stopped before, but now it was only going to get worse when it finally hit. But the cool crispness of the air didn't dare mask or suffocate, even have the power to hide the blood boiling in the small room above him. He could, too, hear small noises that urged him on to climb the jagged tree branch. She was whimpering, almost moaning in a sense. But not in pleasure, in pain. He liked that fact more than he should have, not that he felt any guilt for what was to come.

He couldn't wait to smell the fear come off her waves, he wouldn't do anything in the slightest to try to alter her emotions, he wanted her as vulnerable as she was. He wanted her weak, and begging. He wanted her to cry; cry for him to stop, cry for him let her die, cry for anything could save her. But nothing would be able to make him stop, they could try, even attempt to be able to have the power. But if they came in any distance of risking his chance, coming any close to surpassing his plans, they would die.

He would make sure of it with his bare hands. She would watch too. She would be grateful it was them and not her, then she would give him anything he wanted. But he didn't want it without a fight, there was a certain thrill that came with the chase. Something about the want that made everything all the more wild, all the more desirable.

His boot-clad legs brushed the weakly staggered vines along the ground, the heavy thud of his steps leaving footprints in the soil. There was a strange gleam in his eye, almost a red glint in the fading horizon of sunset. It was one of those nights that could only tell you that the worst was yet to come. And there he was, only a some odd number of feet below her, but not for long.

He reached out suddenly, pushing himself of the ground with a leap, he grabbed onto a branch latching himself on the tree. The heels of his boots kicked against the bark as he hosteled himself up, his lethal movements bring him further upward. His head of honey blond hair reached the bottom sill of the window, the glass frosted at the sensitive edges, but he could see; see her withering, almost convulsing in nothing more than a camisole tank visible above the blanket.

If he didn't see that her hooded eyes were not fully closed, but slightly open, her top eyelid not fully touching her water line, he would have bee convinced that she was having a nightmare. Even if she was, nothing would compare to him, folklore and monsters weren't anything to be afraid of next to the real creatures of the night. He couldn't help but to grin evilly, the slight jagged edge of canines biting into the flesh of his own lips.

He didn't bleed; instead teased himself with the slight touch of pressure, he simply couldn't wait to sink his teeth into her. The bottom of his knee now was firmly planted on the flimsy tree, his tall figure making his hunch slightly so that his head wouldn't get caught in the stray branches. He could see from outside that there was a latch that was meant to be some sort of safety; a lock.

But it didn't stand a chance against his deadly strength. He didn't have to think twice or even hesitate before taking the small ledge and lifting it until the metal broke apart into separate pieces. A single noise tore her away from wiggling around, shuffling in her sheets, until she lifted her head; her eyes searching.

He was inside before she could even comprehend what the light thud of noise had been.

He towered over the small height of the single bed, his stance menacing in the dark. The weight of his footsteps made her shiver, clutching at the duvet nearing her chest. Her lips were trembling, her eyes teary; she didn't have it in her to risk her chances at live by blinking. Anything could happen in that moment of time; it was almost too precious. He could crush her in seconds, break her bones causing them to shatter into her lungs, drain her dry with a single swoop of his head.

She wasn't exactly breathing; she was panting unevenly. She couldn't fully comprehend what was going on; not really knowing where to draw the precise line between what was reality and what was fiction. She didn't want to believe what she was seeing with her own eyes, she would have found it more comfortable to know she was going insane, it couldn't be real. He couldn't be real.

But she was too reluctant to test her theory, she could only shuffle against the hard headboard, watching as his eyes seemed to glow in the misty darkness. She could see the narrow passage of his nose, the curve of his perfectly pink lips and the outline of his angular jaw. Even with her fuzzy vision, his features; his bones, seemed sharp, almost too outstretched for his skin.

Her chest moved with her uneven breaths, the salty liquid of tears welled up in her eyes, but she knew nothing of what she could control herself of doing wasn't going to help her. The sight of her weakness made his lips tremble, she was practically giving herself over to him with the way she was looking at him. The midnight sun of moonlight reflected in her eyes, there was no one here to save her. She felt it before she could even think.

"I would tell you not to be afraid, that I am not going to hurt you. But then I would be lying and I am no liar," his southern drawl crawled up her spine and sent shivers down her back. "Trust me, I am a man of my word." The grin that he suddenly wore made her gasp and bring up the thin covers barely concealing the milk cream of her collarbones.

"No, , don't. I'll call for my father!" The grin disappeared from his lips before she could open her mouth to scream bloody murder. She would do no such thing. She would be a fool to think that would stop him, that her weak attempt to threaten him would faze him, that she had anything of a chance at escaping him. A fool.

"Try. I'll snap his neck before you even get a word out, and then you will wear the guilt of his death. Go ahead, I'm not the one who is going to be killing him. You are." Her face was scrunched up in sheer misery, for she knew he was right and that there was nothing that could help her. He was going to have her, whether she wanted it or not. But she had to do something, she had to fight.

Only how?

"Jasper, you wouldn't do that. I know you. I know you can feel my pain, and that you will feel the same as I. Please, you wouldn't want that?" Her words weren't be heard as far as Bella was concerned. He wasn't listening to her, instead he was walking slowly over to the left of her bed. She cowered into the right, trying her mightiest to make sure she made herself as small as possible. But if he were to come close, she would try to shove him off.

He could feel the anxiousness in her skin, he could see it in the way she was holding herself back and hear it in her shaky words. Nothing would do. She wasn't actually thinking she would stand a chance? That she would even get him down, even for a second? He wasn't Edward, he wasn't afraid of hurting her. He wanted to.

He held a ghostly finger to his lips and closed his eyes, shifting his footsteps until he was at the end, his legs touching the outer edge of her clothed mattress. "Shh," he cooed softly to her, "If you knew me like you say you do, you'd know that is all I want. To feel.

"To feel your pain, to feel you struggle, to feel you almost com-bust with all of the emotion you keep so dear to your heart. Your humanity. I can't feel, I am not human, but you are. And what better choice that such a lovely creature.

"See - you shouldn't feel so insecure, or inadequate - but I'm glad you do. It feeds me, it drives me, such things of which I could never know of."

* * *

Edward picked up his head from the lion with shortness of breath, the blood thickly coated around the shape of his mouth. He could feel his eyes changing, from the darkest of black to the topaz he had known for almost a good century. The coppery taste of crimson to humans, tasted like wine on his tongue, but it was blood from an animal; the kind of wine you got a from a box in the place of an aged bottle.

It wasn't what he had wanted to drink or drink from, but he wouldn't indulge himself in anything but. He was lucky enough that it was a lion he had found wandering along the mountain side instead of a lone deer. It would do to satisfy him, but even that of a wild animal couldn't bring him to his knees. He wanted more, and more, but even with more, the taste wasn't in the least the same of what a human could provide.

He needed to drink to live, but he didn't drink for the pleasure of the kill.

He wasn't that kid of person, or man, but if he had ever told you he didn't have the urge to run, or the longing to capture something in his arms and tightly squeeze until he felt the bones from within break, and dig his teeth as deep as he could...he would be lying.

That was exactly what his body wanted to do, he wanted to have and to hold that kind of signature power, but it wasn't in him to give himself over. He wouldn't even if that was the last thing he could do or ever do, not even if there was a promise of no consequences to come. He couldn't do that to Bella, he couldn't.

He shouldn't have to feed this often or this much, but the longer he stayed with Bella, he was risking her life and his. If he had ever felt that she was in danger near him, it wouldn't just be the end of her, he would surely die from just the pain of knowing she was gone at his hands and his hands alone. It was his nature, but even with knowing it was natural for him, he fought with all he had to resist. But his control wasn't everything of what it used to be.

He dropped the carcass that still felt warm to the touch to the ground and continued on, his ears listening to the sounds of the night.

* * *

She couldn't look away from his eyes, they were holding hers to his, almost like a fish on a hook - motionless when dead. She wasn't so sure if she could hear or if she was breathing, or even if she were real. In that moment, she wasn't really believing anything was. It surely didn't feel like anything like this would happen to someone like her, if anything like this could happen at all, was everything she had known as a child really a lie?

Did monsters really exist? And if so, could they scavenge? Did they come out at night? Did he really want her? Why did he want her? He had already told her how he felt, and why he felt they way he did about her, but Bella was far from comprehending. His almost soft spoken words, said so gently, were laced were the evilest of meanings.

"Now, that you're quiet. Should we proceed and continue?"

"What?" her small voice quivered with confusion, she didn't want to know what he had in mind. But even with her reluctance to find a source of thought, she knew that whatever he was thinking, she was not going to like it and could only mean the worst. She started to realize, even with her spine lightly hitting the wooden headboard, she wasn't that far from him. In fact, she could feel the chill of his body in the air, making the rosy buds beneath her camisole rise.

She tried her hardest to remain modest and conceal her body from the hunger of his eyes, but just as she pulled the sheet up further up her chest, she was stopped by the ice of his fingers. Before she could gasp, his lips silenced her, quickly pressing against her own roughly until she felt the rawness of the skin break, the flesh immediately disturbed.

She pushed at his chest, her fragile fingers nothing but a caress to the hardness that was this dead man, now an immortal creature. Her lips fought, but his teeth were faster and sharper, catching her bottom lip and biting down with the quickest of sliver from the razor enamel.

She started to feel the prickle of tears in her eyes and the sound of a growing sob in her throat, the sound almost a victory in his ears. He continued on with drawing her blood, feeling the heat of the wine on the edges of his tongue. The taste, the taste was more than divine, more than anything he had even imagined. He was savoring all he could take without killing her. Where would the fun in that be?

"Dad!" The sound of her plea, and cry was caught in her throat. Jasper had extracted his teeth and now his face was all she could see. The almost playful taunting in his eyes, the bubble of laughter rising to a chuckle from his throat made her flinch beneath him.

"Do really wish death on that poor old man?" his question was a soft whisper, almost deathly. The threat in his voice was apparent and no way a lie. She knew, she knew.

"Why?" her voice broke, she gave her silent defeat, gracefully. Without another word, he slipped his almost numb feeling fingers beneath the soft cloth that was draped over her skin.

"Shh, my darling. No more of this."

"Pleas-se," she whimpered, her lips stinging from his forceful mouth. She looked up at him, her eyes trying to search, trying to see what the thing that was inside him wanted. Why was she the one who would suffer? Why was she the one he choose? Why was it that she had to feel pain?

He stopped her from wasting her breath further, running his cool thumb over her bottom lip, catching the precious droplet of blood that didn't need wasting. He brought the crimson to his face and inhaled and breathed in the aroma of her infectious liquor. He closed his eyes to the scent before taking his thumb into his mouth.

He was tempted to suckle what he could, he wanted everything, not a drop was to be gone. But why resist the wine right in front of him? He fought with animal instincts before deciding her blood wasn't all he wanted. The strange happening that had attracted attention to his lower regions, the heat radiated and burned him was the calling of her silken thigh.

She was moving, too. Even if she thought that wiggling around was going to get her anywhere, she was wrong. It was getting her into more trouble, it was making his loins burn with need and desire. His hand itched from her face, cradling the hollow edge of her jaw, pulling her face closer to his; bringing his teeth that could end her life close again to her lips. His thumb kneaded the tension in her neck, moving further down, bringing his sharp nail to tease her skin.

Bumps rose on her along her translucent neck, and fear screamed from her eyes. There was no more with pleaded, she had to will him.

"Jasper," her voice brought his eyes up from watching the vein of her artery pump right ever so near his mouth. His eyes darted up to where she was having difficulty keeping her breathing evenly, and she had almost had him if he didn't sense the mystery of her anxiety that was about being so near him, it was about getting away from him.

He brought his forearm under her neck and pressed it against her throat, feeling his small hands clutch at his unbreakable hold. "You have better chance of surviving, if you would just cooperate." His voice was strong and hard, sending her into an unspoken panic. It was finally sinking in, nothing would stop him. There was no chance of getting away, and no chance of anyone coming to save her. Edward coming to save her.

He saw her stomach struggle, and lift with her feeble attempts to take his forearm off her her windpipe and he finally lessened and took away his limb. When she could finally breathe, he moved his hand down her collarbone and to her breast, taking and cupping it in his hand. While he felt her gasp with sudden surprising sensation, his fingers slowly trailed down her arm, down her hip and caught up in the delicious curve of her womanhood.

"It will hurt, but I know - deep down inside - you want me to pierce you. You want me to go inside, to stretch and devour the depths of your pink flesh."

He lowered his head above her cream bosom, taking a pert nibble between his teeth, still clothed and bit down. The fabric turned to shambles and the bruising red came to his mouth.

He hovered over her small form, the skin of his cool body grazing her bare chest. She shook beneath him, but not just from the lack of warmth he would have provided if he were a human, but from the suggestive leer on his face. His inhumanly hard; almost granite, surface seemed to crush her. She was on the verge of suffocation under him, feeling the heavy weight of him hold her down against her will, pinning her to the bed.

She didn't struggle; they were past that, she had to be. Her fathers life was at stake, she would do anything to save him, and everything to make sure he was all right. But there was an evil voice whispering to her in the back of her mind; What if he had already done something to him? Was he alright? If so, how was he still sleeping when she needed him? She couldn't yell, or even open her mouth to speak. She was have been frozen if her body would allow her to do so, but with Jasper so close and so personal, it wasn't possible. But her life hanged in the balance as well.

His lean muscular legs dug into her thighs, his hands keeping a firm grip on her wrists, that were sure to bruise, bound to the bed. The only thing that kept her from fully sobbing was the pressure of his pelvis on her stomach. She could feel her length, long and hard, almost like wood stabbing into her opening. It caused her almost immediate pain as the head of him poked through between her lips.

She feared at any moment, he would thrust deep and tear her insides apart, but she wasn't able to brace herself even to think of it. But instead of diving into the hot flesh beneath him, he was intent on demoralizing her by inching further along inside, toying with her by coating the sensitive pucker with her juices. On the tip of him, he could feel the pre-cum of venom ooze, he dragged it along her clitoris and back to the very point where he could make her bleed.

She was crying, her chest shaking, her pert nibbles almost raw looking from having his mouth on them.

He pulls up his eyes from watching there bodies a-line in union over and over, feeling ever more so each time going inside her, her muscles tightening around his shaft; the consuming heat of her around him, clenching and pulling him deep. She couldn't escape.

* * *

_A/N: There you go! I worked really hard on this, please leave me some feedback and I might continue. I see something in the way this story is working for me._


	3. PLEASE READ: Farewell

_This isn't anything good or something you really want to hear if you enjoy my stories. Quite the opposite. I'm very sad to inform all my readers that I will not continue to write any more fanfiction._

_Even though I have promised some in the most recent weeks that I have been constructing new material, I have realized that within the past couple of days that if I truly want to become a novelist, that I first must begin with my own original stories. I can no longer borrow and use characters of which that are not my own._

_I have just enrolled into college, and I am going to be studying to obtain a degree in English Literature and the pressure is already astounding. With multiple classes, and travel hours exceeding over 2 hours, I won't have much time to write for myself much less any of you who have followed my work throughout the years._

_I don't want to come out and be insensitive, because leaving fanfiction is really one of the hardest decisions but I cannot sacrifice my time and effort any longer on material which is not made up of characters that I have created and molded._

_I truly am sorry. I won't come out say that I have been the best writer or the most frequent updater, but I have given my readers a part of myself that I still don't understand. In my writing, I have given everything lost and hidden, unknown to anyone in my personal life to everyone who has read a story of mine._

_What I will miss the most, are my readers. You have all encouraged me when I felt there was nothing else to give, to continue when I thought I had no story to tell and defended me and my writing when others disapproved. You have made me a better writer than I ever thought I would be._

_I want to thank everyone. You have all touched my heart._

- a nyr byrjun


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